


these grown up children we became

by confusingtimelessnessandtime



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Humor, Automail, Awkward Conversations, Childhood Trauma, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Hurt Edward Elric, POV Roy Mustang, Parental Roy Mustang, Some Humor, ed is only mean because he doesn't know how to respond to people caring about him, for the elrics ig, it's touched on, roy helping ed with his emotional issues to get out of paperwork, roy: water calms crying kids down right?, technically? i guess he's hurt during this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusingtimelessnessandtime/pseuds/confusingtimelessnessandtime
Summary: Roy hadn’t known what to expect when he’d received a call from Alphonse explaining that Ed was acting “weird”, but the request for his presence was clear enough. There had been no small amount of concern in his voice, muffled as it was by the armour and telephone lines. He’d wanted to get out of doing paperwork to clean up some inexperienced junior officer’s mess anyways. Riza might have been skeptical, but she’d let him go, and that was the important bit.He certainly hadn’t expected to hear both Elrics yelling at the top of their lungs, unintelligible but for the occasional familiar words and phrases like “leave me alone!” or “fuck off!” or“brother!”
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, i guess you could infer any pairing you want depending what you ship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 350





	these grown up children we became

**Author's Note:**

> look i know i don't usually write for fma but I've watched the full thing twice and it actually holds up. do you know how rare that is. i'm starting my third rewatch because the plot really is that good

Roy hadn’t known what to expect when he’d received a call from Alphonse explaining that Ed was acting “weird”, but the request for his presence was clear enough. There had been no small amount of concern in his voice, muffled as it was by the armour and telephone lines. He’d wanted to get out of doing paperwork to clean up some inexperienced junior officer’s mess anyways. Riza might have been skeptical, but she’d let him go, and that was the important bit. 

He certainly hadn’t expected to hear both Elrics yelling at the top of their lungs, unintelligible but for the occasional familiar words and phrases like “leave me alone!” or “fuck off!” or _“brother!”_

Roy quickly weighed the pros and cons of interrupting and decided that, in the long run, he really did prefer both brothers alive and working together. He raised his hand to the dormitory door and knocked twice. 

_We all have to die sometime,_ he thought wryly, as the door flew open and Ed stared at him, out of breath from shouting and looking seconds away from pouncing on him like a wild animal. Roy had to stop himself from taking a step back. 

“We’re in the middle of something,” Ed said, obviously restraining himself from outright snarling the words. His left hand was trembling on the doorframe, the right automail arm steady at his side. “Come back in a couple of hours.” 

“Brother,” Alphonse reprimanded him, more heated than Roy had ever heard him before. He’d always thought of Alphonse as the more quiet, well-mannered of the two, calm where Ed couldn’t be. “I called him here.” 

Ed turned on his heel, completely ignoring Roy. “What the fuck, Alphonse?” 

“You’re not acting like yourself, and you won’t tell me anything. At least talk to _someone,”_ Alphonse pleaded, sounding remarkably similar to Maes in the early days after Elysia’s birth, desperate for her to stop crying and go to sleep. “I’m going out to get both of you lunch, and you’d better be calmer when I get back. Colonel, do you want anything in particular?” 

Roy, who had never been asked about his lunch preferences quite so aggressively, blinked. “Um, no, anything’s fine. I’ll pay you back.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Alphonse assured him, and Ed stepped aside to let him out. Roy tried not to shrink back as he passed. His presence seemed to fill every inch of that seven foot suit of armour, no matter that it was hollow and empty. 

Ed still looked furious, but the wind seemed to have been taken out of his sails with Alphonse’s departure. He was staring at a point over Roy’s shoulder, both fists clutching the sleeves of his red coat. It was a strangely childlike action. 

“Can I come in?” Roy asked. 

His eyes focused on Roy, and he turned his back to stomp back into the dormitory. “Do whatever you want,” he called, tossing the words over his shoulder with a scowl. He was limping slightly, trying not to put weight on his automail as he walked towards his bed as angrily as anyone could. 

Roy tried to remember how he would calm his younger sisters. Alice had wanted someone to vent to, but Miri had preferred to talk about anything except what she was really angry about. Leah had wanted revenge more often than not, but all Vanessa had needed was some quiet and a glass of water. She had once told him it was impossible to keep being upset while drinking cold water, and he had never known that particular piece of advice to fail him. 

He closed the door behind him and went directly to the sink. He could feel Ed’s eyes on his back, suspicious, and deliberately opened cupboards until he found two glasses. The cupboards were large and very sparse. 

“You certainly don’t have much in the way of kitchenware,” Roy remarked, noticing that the Elrics only owned the two glasses he had set on the counter of their small kitchenette. 

“We do dishes straight after meals,” Ed said with a strong undertone of _what do you care?_ “‘Sides, Al doesn’t eat.” 

Roy twisted the knob beside the tap. Of course he’d find a way to put his foot in it. He slipped off his gloves and stuck two fingers under the water until it ran cold, then filled both glasses and crossed the room to sit on the second bed, which he assumed must be Alphonse’s. Ed was still staring at him, more wary than angry now. 

“Thanks,” he murmured as Roy handed him the water, not taking his eyes off him. 

Roy lowered his own gaze to his hands, giving Ed whatever space he might need. They were still wet, so putting on his gloves in case of a potential threat in the Elrics’ dorm room would be not only paranoid, but pointless. He could see Ed staring peripherally - that red coat was hard to miss - but decided to let him speak first. 

“Okay, this is weird,” Ed said finally, moving for the first time in minutes to sit cross-legged on his bed. Roy hadn’t noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes, just off-white socks that had been darned a few too many times by inexpert hands. “What the fuck are you doing, Mustang?” 

“Putting your brother’s mind at ease and getting out of some extremely boring paperwork,” Roy replied. “Why were you yelling at Alphonse?” 

“Because he was mothering me, and I didn’t need it.” 

Roy opened his mouth to say something like _”I’m sure you didn’t,”_ but Ed snapped, “Fine, I didn’t _want_ it. Happy?” 

“Delighted.” 

They regarded each other for a moment in silence, taking in the imperfections of the other’s appearance. The scars on the back of Roy’s hand were in full view, as were his dust-scuffed shoes he hadn’t bothered to shine in too long and ink-stained cuffs. In return, he noticed the dark shadows under Ed’s red-rimmed eyes; the sleeves pulled over his hands around the water and the socks over both feet. He remembered Ed’s limping steps. 

“Did something happen to your automail?” Roy guessed. 

Ed leaned back against the wall, rolling his eyes. “My mechanic’s leaving tomorrow, so don’t freak out on me about irresponsibility or whatever. I’d do it again.” 

“I wasn’t going to lecture you,” Roy said, a little amused by the idea. After all the stupid things he had done at Ed’s age, he hardly had a leg to stand on. 

The insensitivity of the metaphor occurred to him a moment after he thought it and tried not to let his embarrassment show. “Does it hurt?” He asked instead. 

Ed gave him a confused sort of glare. “I don’t know, Mustang, do you _think_ it would hurt to have a piece of metal jammed directly into your nerves? You wanna try it?” 

“Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer,” Roy muttered, mostly to himself but loud enough for Ed to hear. Ed actually laughed at that, which he decided to count as a win. It was more of a snort, but it was more than he'd expected. 

“Is that what you and Alphonse were fighting about?” 

He made a face. “Yes? No? It started out that way, but you know how he is. There’s always something else behind the thing he thinks he’s upset about, and I get impatient when he won’t just spit it out, and then it turns out that actually, it just comes down to -” He made a vague gesture with his flesh hand that clarified absolutely nothing - ”you know?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Then you’re dumber than I thought. What’s the biggest, most obvious difference between me and Al? The one strangers see, first thing?” 

“That you’re tiny and loud and destructive, and he’s the personification of sunshine?” 

Ed fixed him with a withering stare. “I oughta strangle you. The difference is, I’m still mostly flesh and blood, and he isn’t.” 

“Does it affect the way people treat him?” Roy asked, curious but wary of the kind of issues he was about to uncover. “Is he angry at you?” 

“He _should be,”_ Ed snapped, more forcefully than he had probably intended. 

His eyes widened slightly, as if he couldn’t believe it had been said aloud, and he met Roy’s eyes again, looking very much like a child caught in some mischief. He glanced down at his lap, breathing in a slow, measured way he had obviously learned somewhere and beginning to fidget with his sock, careful not to disturb the automail too much. 

“He should be angry at me.” 

“From everything I’ve seen,” Roy said carefully, “he wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.” 

Ed made a frustrated groan, throwing his head back against the wall with a thump and closing his eyes against the inevitable pain. “You don’t get it, Mustang. He can’t eat. He can’t sleep. He can’t feel, or smell, or taste anything. He’s forgotten what _warm_ and _cold_ feel like. People treat him like a grown adult, like he’s my goddamn parent, or they’re _scared_ of him, and he’s barely twelve. He’s stuck like that, and I’m the one who locked him in there and gave him false hope.” 

“False hope?” 

“You really think a couple of kids are gonna find the philosopher’s stone when thousands of people way more competent with way more training haven’t?” 

“You’ve done the impossible before,” Roy reminded him, giving him his most inspiring stare. It was worth a shot. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear anything about you anymore. Besides, you’re not alone in this.” 

“Yeah? Who the fuck’ve I got? And if you say Al, I’ll strangle you for real.” 

“You’ve got me,” Roy told him, as serious as he’d ever been. “And if you’ve got me, you’ve got the whole team, plus all my contacts and the contacts of everyone who works under me. I've had a lot of people keeping their ears open for any mention of the stone since you’ve arrived in East City.”

Ed watched him talk with his mouth slightly open and an incredulous furrow in his brow, leaning further towards Roy as he spoke. His bangs covered just enough of his face for Roy to be a little unsure of how he was taking the news. 

“You _what?”_ he asked, his voice cracking. Roy tried to keep the amusement off his face, remembering all too well the way Riza had laughed at him. Ed turned red, taking a sip of his water so he wouldn’t have to speak until his voice was ready. “No, really, Mustang. What the fuck?”

“What, I can’t want to help you out?” 

“No!” Ed cried, looking ready to tear his hair out. “I don’t know, just - you’ve really been trying to help us?” 

Roy gave him a withering stare of his own. “No, I offered to let a twelve year old join the military because I thought it would be funny. Who do you think has been authorising you for various resources and missions that should, by anyone else’s standards, have gone to one of those competent, well-trained adults?” 

Ed gaped at him, eyes unfocused like he was trying to figure out how this could possibly be. The one bright side, Roy noted, was that his flesh and bone hand was no longer trembling holding his water, and his eyes were no longer quite as wild. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, finally making eye contact. “I didn’t realise. Maybe you’re not that much of a bastard after all.” 

“I’m not a bastard at all,” Roy said mildly. “My parents were married.” 

“Yeah? What’s that got to do with anything?” 

Roy paused, a thought occurring to him. “You know that _bastard_ is a derogatory term used to describe someone who was born to parents who weren’t married at the time of the child’s birth, right?” 

Ed’s brows went sharply downwards in confusion. “What? But that - no? I thought it just meant, like, a jerk. You mean I’ve been - and _I’ve been -”_ His eyes widened dramatically. “Shit. You’d better not tell anyone, I swear I’ll -” 

“Who would I tell?” Roy asked, so surprised he started to laugh. This was evidently the wrong move, judging by the way Ed shrunk even further into himself. “Alright, I swear I won’t tell anyone. Not even Hawkeye.” 

“You’d better not,” he said, but he uncurled himself a little and let the tension in his shoulders drop. 

Roy thought about asking any number of questions - _why does your brother think I can calm you down? did the water help? what did happen to your automail?_ \- but he rejected each of them in turn. They were too personal, too fraught, too full of the admission that he had no idea what he was doing. Ed was hardly delicate, but he didn’t seem to know what to do when confronted with the idea that someone might actually want to help him. 

“I’ve had my contacts keeping their ears open for rumours,” Roy told him instead. “If you think now is the time for them to start asking questions, I’ll get in contact with them.” 

“Not yet,” Ed decided. “Soon. I’ll let you know.” 

“And Alphonse doesn’t hate you. Ask him.” 

Ed slumped back against the wall, defeated. “Look, Mustang, I know you want to help, but I don’t think I could handle what he says one way or the other. I’d just as soon not have an answer to that question.” 

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a challenge before,” Roy pointed out, wondering if it were possible to goad him into solving his own problems. He had never seen anyone less capable of hate than Alphonse, and he so clearly loved Ed that it was difficult for Roy to believe that the answer was anything other than _of course not, I’ve never hated you, brother!_

“Just stay out of it,” he said quietly. “Seriously. And don’t tell Al.” 

“I won’t,” he replied solemnly. “I swear. More water?” 

“Sure,” Ed said, grinning. “Oh, and hey, as long as _you’re_ mothering me, how about some of the crackers in the cupboard too?” 

Roy never failed to feel equal parts annoyed and amazed with Ed before long. “Alphonse is coming back with lunch in a few minutes. You’ve got your water.” 

“Worth a try.” Ed rolled his head back and adjusted his position sitting on the bed, grimacing when he jostled his automail arm. The red coat shifted and exposed the scar across his shoulder and collarbone, and his eyes darted over to Roy as if daring him to stare or say anything about it. 

Roy met his eyes, then deliberately looked towards the door, outside of which he thought he could hear Alphonse’s heavy, hollow steps. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ed carefully tug his coat sleeve off his bad arm and move back so his back touched the wall the bed had been placed against. He pulled off the rest of his coat as Alphonse opened the door. 

“Hello!” Alphonse said cheerfully, carrying their food in a reusable cloth bag and making a very odd picture while doing it. “Everything better?” 

“You traitor,” Ed accused him with no heat in his tone, throwing his coat across the room. It landed perfectly on Alphonse’s spiked helmet, but instead of scrambling to get it off for visibility, he just sighed and laid their lunch orders down on the table. 

“And that’s supposed to convince me you’re fine?” he asked, something vaguely amused in his tone. “I’ll give you 20 cenz right now if you can catch this sandwich.” 

Roy watched in horror and awe as Alphonse, eyes still covered by the red coat, picked up Ed’s order and lobbed it across the room. Ed did try to catch it, but it was thrown on his right side and he’d had to dive across the bed to catch it with his left hand, making him gasp sharply in pain. 

“You’re staying there until Winry comes,” Alphonse told him, finally taking the coat and hanging it up by the door. “Colonel, thank you so much for coming. Here’s your sandwich, I didn’t know what to get you so I got ham and cheese because it seemed like a safe choice, although if you’re vegetarian I’m very sorry.” 

“Ham and cheese is fine, thank you, Alphonse,” Roy said, taking the sandwich gratefully, then turned to Ed. “You will let me know?” 

“I will,” Ed agreed, clutching his sandwich close to his chest. “Now get back to work. I better not be the reason you give Hawkeye when you have to explain your slacking to her.” 

Roy almost smiled, but he turned it into a smirk as he stood up and made his way to the door. “I expect to see you in the office on Tuesday.” 

“Bastard,” Ed called, and Roy let himself laugh as he closed the door.


End file.
